What If We Were Good?
by sarfateith
Summary: When commoner Santana Lopez of the Kingdom of Lima curiously crosses the border to Westerville, the opposing kingdom, she meets a curious group of boys. But what happens when she's left to choose between these friends and her home? AU Sebtana/Brittana.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I am in _love_ with this pairing and I absolutely had to do something with them. So I hope you enjoy! (author credits to my friend who doesn't have a tumblr but will get one soon)**

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><p><em>Lima was a wonderful kingdom to be in. The King and Queen, Finn and Rachel Hudson, ran it extremely smoothly—even if many people claimed their youth would get in the way of the kingdom's needs. Crime was relatively low, and a majority of the population was employed. But even with this success, the elders of the city doubted their ability to rule. The Queen wrote up most of the laws of the kingdom, while the King tended to enforce them, as he wasn't the best with words, and this female dominance also gave them a feeling of uneasiness—women weren't supposed to have such power. But they continued living in Lima, as the other kingdom—Westerville, to be more specific—was a kingdom that scared them. They were very kind—much too kind—and most citizens of Lima who ventured into Westerville never came back. Thus, the hatred between Westerville and Lima had purpose. And here in Lima is where our story begins—the beginning of what may be a life changing experience for one commoner living in the bad part of the kingdom.<em>

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><p>"Finn?" The Queen shouts across the hallway, making her husband pop out from behind the arch.<p>

"Yes, Rach?" The King replies, walking over to where she was sitting, holding her writing utensil in one hand.

"Tell me if this sounds like a good idea—what if we had a _masquerade_ this month, to celebrate the coming of winter? The entire town can come, and they can sing for us and we can have an evening off from all the hard work that we go through—" He cuts her off with a chaste kiss, smiling as he pulls away.

"That sounds like an _excellent _idea, your Excellency." He winks at her and she puts her hand to her mouth to hide her laughter. She stands up to follow him when she realizes that she still needs to write the invitations and plan out the guest list. So she calls on one of her faithful servants.

"Tina!" She shouts, and an Asian woman scuttles in, her dark hair tinted blonde at the ends, and her eyes smiling.

"Yes, m'lady?" She stands next to the queen.

"Please do me a favor and write up the invitations to the kingdom's winter masquerade." She smiles at her servant as she begins to walk away.

"But your majesty!" Tina calls as Rachel is nearing the door. "What about the guest list?"

"Just…everyone in town. But absolutely _no _Warblers, as I don't think I can stomach them and their disgusting behavior." She looks back, confirming that her servant did in fact catch all of that, before she slips out of the room and begins to stride through the hallway. Her husband ambushes her, though, kissing her deeply in the middle of the hallway, and she drags him to the nearest door on their left—the bedroom.

"They're disgusting," Mike, one of the guards, groans, making a face. "They can't keep their hands off of each other." He turns to look at the woman now writing furiously at the Queen's desk. She looks up and blushes.

"I think it's cute, Mike, so get back to work before I tell them that you're slipping out after hours to a certain woman's _bedroom_." She winks at him a bit as he gets red in the face, turning away.

"I thought you were going to keep us a secret, Tina." He mumbles. She quickly hops up from her seat and scurries over to where the guard is standing. Her lips find his for a moment, their mouths colliding as if they hadn't seen each other in years.

"Back to work or else I won't." She breathes, and he swears she'll be the death of him.

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><p>"Santana, is this a good idea? What if we get caught?" Brittany whispers, crouched next to a Latina of the same age. She's peering through the bushes as the blonde talks, but suddenly throws her hand over her mouth.<p>

"Britt, _shhh_, this is fine. We're not going to be arrested for exploring! I'm tired of painting everything in Lima. It's boring and if it were up to me, there wouldn't be a border between here and Warblerland. Goddamn king and queen, thinking they know what's best for this shi—" Brittany glares at her.

"The king and queen are good people! They _do _know what's best for this kingdom. Stop being so mean, San." Her voice barely gets through the other girl's hand, but it works, because her eyes soften a bit, and she nods.

"I was a little bit out of line, wasn't I?" She's about to continue her apology when the sound of angry voices begin to approach them. Both girls freeze in fear as the voices get closer and closer. Santana begins to listen to them, though, and from what it sounds like, they're not yelling at the girls.

"You _know _you're not supposed to tell anyone about that, you idiot!" There's the sound of skin hitting skin, and Santana flinches because, from the man's grunt of pain, it sounds a hell of a lot like a slap. "And that's just the _beginning_, you incompetent moron." Britt looks at her with big, scared eyes, and she turns and begins to run away.

"Bri—" She covers her mouth before she gives away her position and watches as her blonde best friend runs away, her long hair flying behind her. She sighs, upset that the one person who she thought would understand her was now barreling away, back to the boring life that she so desperately _hated_.

"You're not from here, are you?" A husky voice says, suddenly above her, and she shouts in surprise and falls flat on her back. Her heart rate speeds ten times faster and she's staring into the face of a boy with meerkat-like features. He raises an eyebrow. She quickly sits back up and brushes herself off, not letting go of his stare.

"Listen here, Twink—"

"You can't be here." He cuts her off.

"Asshole, you can't tell me where I can and can't be. So back up." She shakes her long hair out, and for a second, he watches it fall around her shoulders. He'd almost call her beautiful—but then she opens her mouth.

"Dickface, are you _listening _to me?" He blinks at her, and then sneers.

"Actually, I'm the son of the _King_ of Westerville." Her face goes pale. His smile widens. "So, you know, I wouldn't be calling me dickface, bitch." He nods his head a bit and she turns on her heel and begins to walk away. "Wait." She turns quick to face him. "What's your name?"

"Santana." She says simply, and then turns and sprints away. He snickers under his breath and then watches her turn the corner and rustle through the bushes. He's almost confident that he'll be seeing her again.

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><p><strong>AN: Like it? Hate it? Review review review!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: So I updated before I thought I would! Yay! I do not own Glee or Fox. You would know if I did.**

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><p>"Brittany, you'll <em>never<em> guess what happened yesterday." Santana says once her best friend walks through the door of her house. Santana had invited Brittany over to tell her all about the day before. She quickly grabs the blonde's hand and drags her to the bedroom, where she closes the door. Britt raises an eyebrow in confusion. "My _abuela _will hear us, and I don't want…no one can know about this, Britts." Santana smiles softly as Brittany pretends to zip her mouth closed.

"So what'd you see, Sanny?" She asks, reaching out and pulling her best friend onto the bed. Santana lowers her voice as she begins to explain to Brittany what had taken place yesterday.

"So, after you ran away from the bushes—"

"I'm sorry, I was just _really_ scared. I really didn't mean to leave you; I promise I won't do it again!" She pounces on Santana, engulfing her in a hug that she happily reciprocates.

Santana pulls away from Brittany's embrace to continue speaking. "Let me finish, Britt. When you ran away from the bushes, I was exploring Westerville, and then someone found me." She re-enacts the shocked expression she had on her face when she fell back to the ground and Brittany giggles.

"Who was it?" The blonde asks, her blue eyes wide and eager. Santana leans in close to draw out the suspense of the moment.

"The King's _son_." She pulls back, expecting her best friend to be excited and intrigued, but instead, Britt's mouth drops open in horror, and she shakes her head frantically.

"Really?"

"Yes!"

"That's dangerous!" She scoots as close as she can to the Latina and begins to whisper. "You _know_ what everyone says about Westerville!" Santana's eyes dim a little as her best friend begins to lecture her. "People don't come back when they go there! You remember what happened to Puck's grandma! She went for a walk over there and never came back! And the King and Queen said—"

"Bullshit what the King and Queen say!"

"San! No! The King and Queen said it was illegal to go there! If you get arrested, that would be really bad, but if you got hurt? Santana, that's…I'm scared thinking about it." She curls close to her best friend, and Santana is suddenly hyperaware of the way Brittany feels, curled in her arms—how her heart beats harder when she feels her soft hair brush against her skin, and how her fingers tingle when Brittany's are firmly clutching them. She exhales with a shudder, trying her hardest not to make her reaction visible.

"Those are just folktales, Brit-Brit. They've been around forever. They don't mean anything, it's just to keep little kids from running away." She murmurs into the mess of blonde hair that's currently leaning against her.

"But Santana…I love you." Brittany says, exhaling quietly.

Santana freezes. Her heart starts hammering again. She doesn't know why these three little words that she's heard from so many other boys in Lima make her world stop as her best friend for—well, forever—says them now.

"W—what?" She stammers, still shocked. Brittany gets off of Santana and looks her straight in the eyes.

"In the movies, when people care about each other, they say 'I love you'." Her blue eyes are so innocent that Santana looks away, flushing, and completely embarrassed that she thought that Brittany actually _loved _her. Why would she do that? She wouldn't want to ruin their friendship.

"Y—yeah, they do, don't they?" She says, looking down at her hands, which she's twisting in her lap. The blonde takes the Latina's hands and squeezes them.

"I don't want you to get hurt, 'Tana. I just…" She trails off, looking distraught, and Santana sighs in resignation. Telling Britt these things won't work if she's going to be _sad_ and not supportive.

"I know, Britts. Listen, I gotta—I gotta go do something, alright? I'll be back soon, I promise." She forces a smile, and then stands up.

"It's okay, Sanny, I have to go see Sam. Be careful, okay?" Brittany hugs Santana tightly before skipping off, and Santana watches her as she bounds away, down the stairs and out of the house.

"_God_," She breathes, burying her face in her hands. "Why am I so stupid?" She shakes the hurt and disappointment from her mind and grabs her easel, canvas and paint before leaving her house, shoving it in her satchel. All she wants is some solitude to hide away.

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><p>Santana sneaks up to the same bush she had hidden behind the previous day and sets up her easel, looking around at the kingdom of Westerville. The bushes in front of her are bright and blooming, and it lifts her spirits a bit. The trees swaying around her provide concealment, as the hill she's on has a perfect view of Westerville. It's beautiful, really—the sidewalks are completely pure and white. She marvels at the texture of the stone, and scans up and down the road, gazing at the small scattering of people moving leisurely down the street. A sigh escapes her lips, and she covers her mouth as she realizes that she did the same thing yesterday and got in trouble with the king's <em>son<em>. She looks further up the road, and smiles as she spots a mother and her son, subconsciously hoping that can be her one day. She looks at the homes that dot the ends of the roads and blinks at the elegant architecture—the colonial style is old, but it's endearing to watch the owners bustle around and take care of their property. The cottages and buildings are bright colors, all reds and blues and yellows and greens. She thinks it's almost like her paint pallet she's holding. She gazes up at the buildings around her next, the two-story buildings making up most of the area she's in. The signs are quaint and hand-painted, and she's beginning to suspect that she's in the older, more preserved part of Westerville. As she gazes into the distance, she sees the palace looming over Westerville. She shivers involuntarily. Though she wants to be here, her Lima blood makes her automatically despise the building. However, something within her is fascinated by the spirals and arches that are visible from where she's standing. After deciding that she'd love to paint Westerville, she turns to leave. But right then, she sees something suspicious—there are two boys, a blonde and a brunette no older than her, taking hold of a man on the sidewalk, and guiding him forcefully down one of the tiny dark alleyways, away from his bakery. She's got half a mind to go over there and show them some Lima Heights 'hospitality', but curiosity and fear compel her to pause and listen to what's going on. She slinks closer, so that their voices float to her ears.

"If you give us what we _want_, we don't have to be here." She hears the blonde boy say, and cringes a bit at their threatening tone.

"No! You have no right to—" The man protests, but the brunette cuts him off, both stepping closer.

"Damn right we do! You haven't paid back your loan, smartass, and you know what that means?"

"It means it's time for some interest." The tall blonde snarls.

"Beat the shit out of me! Do it, I don't care! I'll tell someone about you gu—" A figure steps out from the darkness and she recognizes him almost immediately. _The king's son!_ She watches as he steps uncomfortably close to the man. The victim is backed up against the wall.

"Now, now, Mister…Johnson? Is that it? We can do this the easy way, or we can do this the hard way." He opens the side of his jacket and he's got a gun holstered by his side. She puts both of her hands over her mouth to hide the sharp gasp she takes in.

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><p>"Has she seen too much?" A figure in the trees above Santana Lopez whispers; suddenly, four other bodies appear.<p>

"She knows what we are." Another breathes.

"She can't know that. We need to take her _in_." A third form suggests. They silently drop from the tree and stealthily begin to approach the Latina crouching in the bushes, completely unaware of the impending attack.

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><p>Santana gets up, shaken from what she's just seen, and begins to walk back to Lima when she bumps into a tall boy.<p>

"Hey, watch it, asshole—" She begins, but then he grips her arm and yanks her off the path. "Whoa, whoa, calm down, I was kidding!" She pales as more boys slink from behind the trees. A second boy comes up behind her and twists her other arm behind her back, and three more come to encircle them. The two youths holding her arms to continue to drag her farther away from view. She's panicking now, wishing she had taken Brittany's warning earlier, to not have gone back and stayed with the person who _loved_ her. She tries to shake them off, but one of the boys puts his hand over her mouth. She screams as loud as she can, but it did nothing.

An African-American boy angrily breaks through the circle, shouting "God fucking dammit, Wes, Sebastian isn't here! We can't go around just grabbing chicks and holding them hostage." Santana nods eagerly in agreement, but the other boy—Wes?— glares at them all, and they instantly get quiet.

"She's seen us. We're _taking_ her to Sebastian." With that, she feels her mouth being covered with cloth, and before she can curse at them in Spanish, she blacks out.

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><p><strong>AN: Reviews are love! :)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: Sorry for taking so long! Slacking and vacation kind of took up more time than we wanted it to. Hope this fixes things! P.S. this chapter is dedicated to my lovely mechanic!Finn Amanda, because the Valentine's Day drabble I wrote for her was less than satisfactory. So. HERE AMANDA I L U xoxo.**

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><p><em>She bounds from behind the trees on the border of Westerville and smiles widely at the idea of traveling on small path to the Lima that she knows so well. It's cobbled and narrow, but she adores it all the same, and the birds around her seem to chirp in time with her steps. She can't wait to see all of her friends—being away from them and being kidnapped even for a second terrified her, and she feels like she hasn't seen them in years. She's especially excited to see Brittany and wants to tell Brit how she really feels. She bursts through the bushes—which are unexpectedly large; she can't remember them being so big when she was last there—and opens her arms wide to hug any and everyone she sees. Puck, Sam, Rory and Artie come rushing up to give her hugs, along with Mercedes and Sugar. She pulls them all in and hugs them tightly, fearing that if she lets go, they'll all slip away from her. But the one person she's really looking forward to seeing isn't here. 'Where's Britt?' She wonders and suddenly, the crowd parts, and she's watching as Brittany and a man—a <em>man_—cuddle up together. She feels a flash of anger, but then remembers that Brittany has male friends too. Santana shakes away the misplaced jealousy and approaches them, her bright smile still painted on her face._

"_Britt-Britt!" She cries out, expecting Brittany to pull away from whoever the guy was and give Santana one of her famous bear hugs. But instead, Brittany snuggles closer to the man, and it really looks like they're—they're together. Dating. She panics as the man kisses her neck softly. She wants to run closer to them, determined to convince herself that there's nothing wrong, but she can't feel her legs. His voice wafts over to her and Santana's heart clenches as she listens._

"_Forget about Santana, Britts. She's not coming back."_

"_B—but…" Brittany's hesitant words give Santana hope, that the blonde understands how she feels, and her worries begin to lessen._

"_She doesn't love you like I do." All of Santana's previous composure collapses immediately. Suddenly she regains the ability to move and launches forward, speeding towards them. 'NO!' She tries to scream, but her voice is weak and she can't run and talk at the same time without getting winded. She watches as the man again kisses her neck, and this time, instead of stiffening, Brittany's face becomes peaceful and she smiles softly. Santana wants to throw up, to die, because she can't watch this. She can't let this happen._

"_Brittany!" She screams, and this time she can actually hear herself. "Brittany, that's not true! I love you! I love you more than you know, please just listen to me! I love you!" Santana is crying now, the frustration and heartbreak driving her to the edge. "Please, Brittany, please! I'm in love with you!" The words feel like lead on her tongue. Brittany turns her head slightly._

"_Brittany! You can hear me, can't you? If you can hear me, walk away from him!" She screams hysterically, flailing her arms around to get Britt's attention, but Brittany's head turns away and she looks up adoringly before kissing his lips slowly. Santana tries to calm her breathing, but it doesn't work, and she sinks to her knees, the sobs rocking her body to the core. "God dammit! No, this isn't supposed to happen! I told you I loved you! I meant it! I love you!" She screams angrily, punching the ground with her fists. Her voice softens and the burning reality sets in—"Please say you love me back. Please." Her broken voice is a whisper, a desperate whisper, and she pleads and cries into the blades of grass around her, begging them to save her because god, does she need saving. "You were supposed to save me. You were supposed to save me, Brittany." She picks her head up as another figure, shrouded in shadow and mystery—with a glinting headpiece—approaches her with soft words, and she can't control herself when she throws herself into its arms._

"_Brittany," she sobs brokenly. "Brittany…"_

"Brittany…" She moans, her eyes blurring with tears as she slowly opens them. "Oh Britt, oh god, Brittany…my Brittany…"

"That's fucking _hot_." A voice—a guy's voice—mumbles, and a few other voices murmur in agreement.

"Really, man? Are you that deprived that you're going after _girls_? Damn, I didn't know you were so desperate." Another voice cuts in, and this voice is one she knows from somewhere. She just can't put a finger on it…

"Burn!" A few more guy voices chime in, and there's laughter around her. She shakes her head. Slowly, at first, so she can test that it's still on right, and then because they're being so goddamn _noisy_. She attempts to talk at first—'Shhupppp', which was more of a slur than anything—and then she really puts her vocal chords to the test.

"Shut the fuck _up!_" She shouts, and the room of laughing boys is immediately quiet.

"Oh good, you're awake." The familiar voice sneers, and she stares at him for a second before she recognizes who he is. He's leaning towards her, the sneer on his face emphasizing his raised eyebrows.

"Well if it isn't the King's son. Did these baboons kidnap you, too? I bet Daddy won't be happy ab—"

"These baboons are my _friends_." He rolls his eyes. "Why are you here? I thought I told you that you shouldn't be here."

"Do you _really_ think I'm going to listen to you?" She responds snidely, wiping the last of her remaining tears away before sitting up. She takes in her surroundings and hates herself for wanting to paint them. She's surrounded on all four sides by pure white walls and light brown wood flooring. The futon she's currently propped up on is white, too, but the pillows are navy blue and red. _Figures._ She looks behind and almost gasps at the large window providing the light in the room. The furniture in the room matches the color of the white walls, and the chandelier above her is a gorgeous gold. She sighs a little. Everything is _white_, save the chandelier and few pillows, which kind of ticks her off as an artist (because she really, _really _wants to splatter-paint everything with color), and if it's not white, it's blue, red, or gold. It's attractive, and modern—it makes her wonder _how_ a group of teenage boys could afford such luxury. She thinks she could live here. That is, until Meerkat-Face manages to crowd her vision again.

"Miss Lopez, you should be more careful how you talk to me." He says, and suddenly four boys have surrounded the futon, their faces dark and distorted. Her face pales. She opens her mouth to say something, but the sharp words seem to fail her as the king's son walks through and grabs her wrist. It's gentle-yet-firm, but she still flinches. "You see? That mouth of yours needs to be controlled, or—" He moves inches from her face. "—you'll get in a _lot _of trouble. Do we understand each other?" His voice is threatening and low, and she tries her hardest not to tremble under his grasp.

"Seb. Seb…_Sebastian!_ Calm down. She's scared, man." A blonde—the one from earlier!—steps in and grabs his arm tightly.

"I'm not—" She begins, but Sebastian turns and gives her the same dark look, and she stops talking. She mouths a _thank you_ to the blonde boy and he flashes her a smile before turning away and walking back next to a brunette—the other boy from the alley earlier. They look at each other for a moment, the brunette smiling at him warmly, and Santana sees the closeness in their eyes.

"So, Miss Lopez," Sebastian begins, and gives her a smirk that makes her want to punch him in the nose, _hard_. "What are you doing here _specifically_ after I last saw you?" He raises an eyebrow and motions for the other boys to leave the paradise-like room. They step out unwillingly, and Wes has a questioning look on his face as he closes the door behind him.

"I paint." Santana says simply, crossing her arms.

"Why do you paint _here_? You're from Lima. You'll get beaten to death if you're seen by any of us Westerville citizens. "

"Because Lima's a piece of shit kingdom and it's pretty where I paint here. Besides, I've painted every fucking _rock_ in Lima at least twice. I like new material, and Westerville is…well, it's really, _really_ new for me." She lets out a little breath as she thinks of the perfect view she has from her little cliff above colonial Westerville.

"Oh. So you're not, like…spying on us? Because if you are, Santana…"

"I'm not, I promise. If I were, would I be in this place?" Sebastian snorts.

"Yes."

"…oh."

"So, what did you see in the alley." He's abrupt, and his voice has gone steely and hard. His face contorts into that of a statue, and she marvels at the immediate change.

"Well, I saw two of your 'friends' about to beat the shit out of some poor guy, and then I saw _you_ step out with a motherfucking gun, and I knew something was totally wrong."

"_Shit._"

"So, you gonna kill me now? Or are you gonna use me as some horrible predatory bait for a creepy rapist going around town?"

"What? No." He makes a face, and she giggles. "You're going to stay here for five days." She blinks, her laughter quickly silenced.

"W—_what_?"

"This is the deal; you stay here for five days, or we talk to the King and Queen—my parents—and tell them that there's an imminent governmental threat, and that they should close the borders for a month or two."

"You can't do that! Lima would never allow it!" Santana splutters.

"Honey, with _your_ rulers in charge of Lima, we can do anything. You've got teenagers for King and Queen, and I've got great parents and talented heads beneath the crown. I think we _know _whose gonna have more control over this situation."

"You complete _dick_!" She lunges at him, but he steps aside and she harmlessly skitters past him.

"Santana. _Calm_ down. So what'll it be? Five days or a month?"

"What do _you_ think, asshole?"

"Five days it is."

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><p>He closes the door behind him to see his friends staring anxiously at him.<p>

"Sebastian, we need to talk to you." The group of boys approaches their leader, and he grins at them.

"She'll stay quiet. But she's staying for five days to prevent any possible danger." He confirms, and everyone nods.

"Yeah, that's what we wanted to talk about. How exactly do you _know_ her?" Wes says, stepping in front.

"I caught her snooping around yesterday. She claims to be a painter from Lima, but I doubt it. Her bone structure looks too strong for her to be _just _a painter. She looks like more of a…a boxer. Or some heavy-physical activity." They all raise an eyebrow. "What?"

"You didn't just 'catch' her, dude."

"Shut up."

"You totally checked her out."

"She's got a great rack, man." Another one of the guys grins and nudges his side.

"No! Shut _up_!" Sebastian storms away, his face bright red.

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><p>Later that day, Santana shows up in the kitchen after smelling something amazing when she notices Sebastian sitting at one of the many tables in the room. They're all white—figures, she sighs. Everything here is white. The sink is full of dirty dishes, and the few remaining boys give her questioning looks before scuttling out of the room. He's got one hand to his forehead, while the other is gripping his phone tightly. He looks upset, or frustrated, or angry, but she really can't tell, so she decides to approach him and ask.<p>

"So what's got your panties in a knot?" She pulls out the chair across from him and plops down as he slowly looks up at her.

"'s nothin'." He mumbles, looking back down, but she taps the table impatiently.

"That 'nothing' shit is _not_ gonna fly with me. You've got me stuck here for five days. The _least_ you can do is tell me why you're being such a downer and not reacting to my tormenting." A fleeting grin appears on his face before he looks at her again.

"I'm just…pissed off. That's all." He admits reluctantly, avoiding her gaze.

"About what?"

"Someone."

"If you think that's going to cover it—"

"My ex-girlfriend. Okay? That's what I'm pissed off about."

"Mmmm, a _girlfriend_!" Santana smirks at him. "I could swear you were gay. You and your groupies are too close to be just 'friends'. To think, I thought you'd fucked them all…"

"Not just guys, sweetheart." He waggles an eyebrow at her and she makes a face.

"Ew. Anyway, why are you upset with her?"

"She was a _bitch _and cheated on me. I went out for the week with my parents—it was only a _week_—and when I came back, she's standing near my house, making out with some douchebag from Lima. From _Lima_! I loved her so much, I could even forgive her for it because god, she meant the world to me, but…" He trails off, his eyes getting misty, and Santana's heart aches a little for him. "…but she just walked up to me and she just…she told me we were done. I was going to ask her to _marry_ me. She was my other half, you know? She was the good to my bad; the light to my darkness." He laughs bitterly, and it comes out as a strained chuckle. "She was everything to me. We spent so long just…just keeping each other sturdy, and what did she give to me? A broken heart and some of her old clothes." Santana's mouth is open a little, her eyes wide and full of sorrow. He slouches in his chair and turns his attention back to his phone, which he's tapping in frustration.

"Wow…" She puts her hand on his reassuringly, her bracelet clinking as it hits the table, and he smiles a little. "That's—that's just…wow."

"So now that I've told you my deepest, most personal secret, time for you to tell me something. Why were you crying when you woke up yesterday? You were whispering a name…Brittany? Who is she?"

"Oh. Um…" Santana can't really find words at the moment. She begins to fumble with her bracelet. "She's my friend—my best friend."

"Why were you crying when you said her name? Is she…you know, dead?"

"No! No, um, it was just a bad dream, you know? One of those scary dreams where you run to try and change something, but you don't move fast enough and suddenly you're in this world that you never want to exist." He nods in understanding.

"She's not just your best friend, is she?"

"N—no. I'm in—well, I think I'm in love with her. I've never felt anything so strong for anyone in my life, ever. Not even any of my old boyfriends." She blinks back tears and shakes her head, withdrawing her hand quickly. "Why am I telling you this? I don't even fucking _know_ you. You're a dick who kidnapped me and decided to force me to have a little sleepover with him and his friends. Why would I tell you anything like this?"

"I could be saying the same thing." He replies, and Santana stands up, trying to put as much distance between them as she could. His eyes lock onto hers. "You know, you may be kind of a bitch, very insensitive, and from what I've observed, a slut, but hey, I kind of like you." She grins a little.

"I could be saying the same thing." She replies, turning on a heel and walking out of the kitchen. She listens to the sound of his laughter and finds herself thinking how good it is to hear it.

* * *

><p>Santana is walking up the stairs to her room for the next five days—<em>ugh<em>—when she reaches the next landing. She spies a line of boys walking down the opposite side of the stairwell. She catches the blonde staring blatantly at the brunette from the alleyway with a mix of attraction and deep rooted care.

"Hey, Blondie!" Santana shouts at the blonde kid she'd seen in the alley. "C'mere."

"Hi!" He says brightly as he walks over. "I'm Jeff."

"Hello, _Jeff_," She says with a smile that always brings trouble. "Can I ask you who that brunette kid over there is?" She points to the other kid she'd seen the day before, who was waiting patiently at the landing.

"Him?" Jeff turns a little pink. "That's, um, that's Nick."

"Ah." Santana exhales a little before gripping Jeff's shoulders tightly and tugging him forward, away from the vision of the rest of the group. They're practically nose-to-nose. "Listen here, Jeffy boy, your other friends might be stupid, or oblivious, but _I_ am not. I see the way you're eye-fucking him all the time. I've been here for less than two days and I've seen you look at him the way the King of Lima looks at the Queen. You don't think I missed the way _Nick_ looked at you after standing up for me? PLEASE. You two are up there with Rachel and Finn as _the_ most sickening people to look at. If you're going to undress him with your eyes, why not just undress him in general? You are fooling _no one_ with that 'best friends' shit." She smiles wickedly as he pulls from her grip and turns a deep red.

"B—but—but he and I—we're not—what—_what_?" Jeff stammers, backing away from her and almost falling down the staircase. She shoos him away, but quickly adjusts her position so she can see Jeff walk up to Nick from below.

"What was _that_ about, J?" Nick asks softly, moving a little closer to him, a concerned expression clearly visible on his face.

"I—it's nothing, Nicky. Let's get back to the rest of the group so they don't notice we've been gone." Jeff says quickly, taking his hand and scurrying down the staircase.

"They'll be in bed together soon. I give it a week." She says to herself as she ascends the staircase and reaches her room. As she shuts the door, a wave of unexpected exhaustion hits her, and she drags herself to the futon before closing her eyes and becoming enveloped in her thoughts of her conversation with Sebastian. Sleep closes in on her immediately.

* * *

><p>She gasps as she sits upright, her dream terrifying her even in consciousness.<p>

"_It's over, Santana." Brittany's normally gentle voice hisses, a coldness taking over._

"_What? Wait, Brittany, what happened? What's going on?" Santana asks, trying hard not to let her tears fall._

"_I don't love you. I never loved you, because you never gave me what I wanted. What I really, really needed."_

"_What was that? Tell me, Brittany, please tell me!"_

"_If you loved me like you say you do, then you'd know."_

"_Please! I do love you, I really do Brittany, but I—I don't—we never talk about this!" Santana cries, but Brittany turns away from her with her head down._

"_Goodbye, Santana." And she leaves without a sound._

Santana puts a hand to her forehead to check if she has a fever and these are all just crazy fever dreams, but she feels normal. She wanted it all to be sickness. She looks out the large window behind her, and sees it's dark out. _Is it dawn or dusk?_ She wonders before looking down at her clothing. The black jeans she was wearing are now stained and dirty, and she rolls her eyes in disgust. She sits on the futon and shimmies her jeans off, leaving her in only a grungy white tee shirt and red lace panties. She throws the jeans at the wall—she's going to put up a fight if they plan on actually keeping her for five days without new clothes—and walks over to the closet she hadn't noticed was built into the wall before now. She twists the wooden knob and it swings open, and she gapes at the seemingly-endless hangers of clothing—_her _kind of clothing—hanging before her. She finds a tiny black skirt and slips into it. She also removes her shirt and flings it on top of the jeans piled in the corner. A red tank top catches her eye, and she pulls it on, admiring how it clung to her body in the right ways. _What would Brittany think_? She shakes the thoughts from her head. A thud comes from behind the door abruptly, and she twists around, her dark hair flying around her like helicopter blades. She runs to the door quickly and takes a breath before slowly turning the door handle.

"Hello?" She whispers, peering out from in the room. To her confusion, the hallway is deserted except for a small box at the foot of her door. She bends down, picking it up slowly and inspecting it carefully. There's nothing on it to address it to anyone, so she walks back inside and begins to unwrap it.

The box is white, not surprisingly, and she snorts as she pulls it out. There's a few words scribbled hastily on the side—_To Santana; have fun._ It doesn't say anything else, so she curiously takes the lid off of the package and blinks in astonishment.

Inside, there's a black, high resolution camera, completely ready for use, lying beneath the red and blue tissue paper. She picks it up in awe, testing its weight and examining the detailing on the sides. The sticky note at the bottom, which she picks up later, says "_For taking pictures to paint. Enjoy._" She finds a jacket from the closet in a rush and scurries out, looking for victims to photograph—even if it's dark out.

* * *

><p>Sebastian trots down the stairs and almost runs into the rest of the group.<p>

"Seb!" David exclaims, making him jump.

"W—what is it?"

"Where's Santana?"

"She left the kitchen _hours_ ago…didn't you see her after that?"

"I saw her walking up the stairs a while ago!" Jeff pipes up, and Sebastian smiles at him gratefully.

"See? You guys, she's probably just upstairs sleepi—"

"She's not in her room!" One of the younger guys interrupts from the top floor, and Sebastian's eyes widen in shock.

"Son of a _bitch_, she left!" He yells, storming past his team in anger. They exchange worried looks before following him.

"What are we going to do?" Nick asks above the rising clamor. Sebastian turns on his heel and stares at every boy as he talks.

"We're going to _find_ her. She knows about what we do! Hell, if that gets out in _Lima_, do you know what's going to happen?" Everyone gulps. "We're going to be disbanded! I'm not even supposed to be here, you know! We need to find this stupid girl and get her back here pronto." He walks away, leaving the rest of the boys on their own to look for her.

x

Sebastian doesn't have to look that hard to find her. After looking through the kitchen, he goes out the back door and almost immediately spots her. He's about to raise his voice and yell at her for trying to leave when he takes a closer look at her. She's got a camera in one hand, and she's sprawled out face down on the ground. She looks dead, to be honest, and he's beginning to worry. He creeps up and kneels over her, attempting to move her. Her other arm is buried beneath her long, dark locks. He touches her arm, as if to test her, and she lets out a little snort. He almost falls over and releases a breath he didn't know he was holding. It suddenly dawns on him.

_She's asleep_.

He carefully lifts the camera from her hand and turns it on. Flipping through the photos, he realizes that she really _must_ be an artist, because the perspectives on these pictures are astounding. He drops the camera around his neck and immediately starts on his next task; getting her inside. He exhales, silently asking why it had to be _him_ to find the crazy Latina sleeping in the grass. He crouches next to her and slips his arms underneath her. She makes another noise that sounds like a breathy snore, and Seb tries not to laugh. When he lifts her up into his arms, though, she gains consciousness for a few moments.

"W—where am I?" She groans, and he chuckles.

"We don't do outdoor sleepovers until May, Santana." He says, whispering in her ear so that she doesn't get startled.

"Mmm? Mmkay, I'll just have to wait. Goooosh, Britts, you're so strong and—" She presses her face into his shoulder, and he holds back another round of laughter. "—and cuddly! _Wow_. I love you, Brittany." She sighs sleepily, not realizing that the person carrying her is definitely _not_ her blonde best friend. However, Santana doesn't have time to correct herself, because she lulls back into sleep almost immediately afterwards, her head lolling into Sebastian's chest. He takes note of how vulnerable and innocent she is when she's not being her defensive self.

When the rest of the group joins him, he motions to the taller, bigger boys and they come and carry Santana back to her room.

"She's asleep." He confirms, and they collectively sigh in relief. "And she thought I was Brittany." He snorts at the silliness.

"Who's Brittany?" Wes and Jeff ask in unison, and Sebastian realizes what he just said.

"Oh, just—just one of her friends." He quickly finishes. The boys don't catch on, and just nod in understanding.

"So that's why she was all cuddly with you?" David asks, and he refuses to let the blood rush to his cheeks.

"Well, either that or I'm just completely irresistible." He winks, and everyone laughs. They begin to file back into the kitchen as one of the boys—Derrick—walks up beside him and grabs his hand suddenly, pulling him into the house away from the rest of the boys.

"I knowyou're still cut up over Julianne even though it's been a year. And I'm so, _so_ sorry Seb. You deserve so much more than what she gave you." He gives Sebastian's a gentle squeeze, and for a second, Sebastian lets his guard down. His eyes unfocus as he thinks about his ex-girlfriend.

"Y—yeah. Thank you, Derrick." The past year without her has been complete havoc, and he's busied himself with other things so that he didn't have to deal with it until now. Derrick takes a moment to give his friend a consoling hug; something Sebastian hadn't indulged himself in in a long time, for fear of being vulnerable. As he buries his face into Derrick's shoulder, he feels something shatter inside of him.

"I—I _hate _her for making me this way," He whispers, his throat lodged with tears. Derrick nods sympathetically, rubbing his back. "I feel like such a…such a _loser_ for—"

"Sebastian, _listen_ to me. You aren't a loser. This happens to people when they fall in love with the wrong person. You can't blame yourself. Okay?" He says comfortingly, and Sebastian almost smiles in spite of everything.

"Thanks, Der." He murmurs again. His voice is rough, so he quickly clears his throat and turns away. He refuses to let any more feeling seep through his guise, so he slips away, leaving Derrick gazing sadly in his direction.

* * *

><p>A few days pass, and Santana becomes closer to the group. She recalls the conversation she had had with David.<p>

"_C'mon Warblers, we have things to do! Satan, you gotta get outta here." Wes calls as Sebastian swiftly enters the room. She raises an eyebrow at them, and David, seeing this, quickly runs over to her._

"_You're called the Warblers? A warbler is a bird." She scoffs at him, rolling her eyes. David looks defensive and crosses his arms._

"_You got a problem with that?"_

They travel a lot, watching her as she takes pictures and smiles like a little girl when someone compliments them. They eat together, and talk about their pasts a little bit, and Santana finds herself enjoying their company—which is strange, because she normally hates everyone. Maybe that's the way Westerville is—charm the visitors to death and then never let them leave.

The Warblers are in the park, and Santana sees Nick and Jeff leaning against each other on a little wooden bench. She smiles deviously and kneels down in order to snap a secret picture of the oblivious love birds. The camera clicks, and she stands upright again, examining the photograph. Nick has his head against Jeff's shoulder, and Jeff's head is resting on Nick's, the blonde hair mixing with the brown. Their content smiles match—as always.

"Taking pictures, Satan?" A voice says from beside her, and she turns her head to see Sebastian resting his head against her shoulder, staring at her with his teasing brown eyes. Normally, she would aim a snide, below-the-belt remark about him (because that's how they roll—insulting each other was a game they played a _lot_), but today, she freezes, her cheeks flushing. She's hyperaware of his breath rolling against her cheek, his skin so close to hers, his _eyes_—she stops herself from continuing that thought and instantly puts needed distance between them.

"Y—yeah." She laughs nervously. "I was just spying on Thing 1 and Thing 2 over there." She gestures to Nick and Jeff, who are now talking at with barely any distance between them.

"Actually," Sebastian chuckles. "They're 'Thing 3' and 'Thing 6'." Santana's questioning look causes him to lengthen his explanation. "Nick was the third person to joi—come to us for help since I've been here. Jeff was the sixth. They liked it here more than they liked their home lives, so they stayed." He looks her up and down, and she feels a bit self conscious. "Don't get any ideas, Lopez. This is a guys-only group." She snorts at him.

"Like I'd want to take part in disgusting orgys that I assume you have on a monthly basis. 'Oh let's all fuck like we haven't seen each other in a thousand years'. Gross." She sticks her tongue out at him, and he scrunches his face in a cute manner. She's about to comment on how he should be careful or his face will stay like that when he throws a clump of grass at her. She's stunned by his speed, but is nonetheless on her guard. She screeches. "Smythe, you _asked_ for it…" She drops to the ground and rips a dandelion from the dirt—roots and all—and chucks it at him as hard as she can. It hits him right between the eyes, and she smiles in satisfaction.

"Oh. My. God." He jokes, putting a hand to his forehead in a mock feint. "I've been hit! Man down!" Sebastian flings a ball of dirt at her and she begins to laugh. In an attempt to win, Santana launches herself at him and nails him to the ground before sprinkling dirt on his face.

"I win." She announces, and he chuckles softly as her hair falls down her shoulders.

"I guess you did, Satan…" He mumbles, his hand reaching up to touch the side of her face. Santana shivers at his touch, but doesn't move away. She slowly begins to lean down, parting her lips ever so slightly, and Sebastian's other hand moves to stroke her hair when—

"'Bastian! Get up! Something just happened! And what are yo—" David cries, sprinting up and skidding to a halt, looking down on them.

"_I TOLD YOU NOT TO CALL ME 'BASTIAN'._" He hollers as Santana quickly rolls off of him. David looks flustered as Sebastian hops up and moves dangerously close to him. "I swear to fucking _god_, David—"

"Calm your tits, _'Bastian_." Santana snickers, brushing herself off and ducking her head slightly to hide the blush that was slowly leaving her cheeks. He turns to her, his face now a bright red, and then stalks away muttering angrily.

Santana high-fives David, because she just found her new way of tormenting her captor.

* * *

><p>"Well, it's been five days, asshole. It was an absolute <em>displeasure<em> to be here with you." Santana sneers at Sebastian as she pushes past the seemingly-constant crowd of boys around him. She walks off to the cobbled pathway she's so used to and takes her first step home. But when she looks around, she suddenly feels dizzy—actually, she feels more like she's gotten punched in the stomach. Her breathing is forced as she remembers the last time she'd been here. In her dream where Brittany had left her.

"Santana?" Sebastian's voice comes from somewhere behind her, but she feels so sick with worry that she can barely recognize him. "Santana, are you okay?" A pair of sturdy arms grab her and force her to look at him. "Listen to me, Santana, are you feeling alright? Do you feel sick? What's—"

"_Brittany_." Santana whispers, her face pale with fear. He carefully moves closer to her, so as not to intrude, and when she doesn't react, he pulls her into a hug.

"Want me to walk you home?" Seb murmurs in her ear, his normally high-maintenance voice soft and consoling. "You don't seem capable of moving on your own." He cracks a smile, and her fear melts away as she chuckles a little.

"T—that would be nice of you Sebastian." She says softly.

"Great! So let's get going."

"You didn't let me finish! That would be nice of you, Sebastian, but you don't _do_ nice. I'll walk myself, if you trust me enough to." She doesn't let him finish, sprinting off down the path before he can put on his 'princely' act. She bounds between the trees and runs through the bushes on the outskirts of Lima. A large smile appears on her face as the people she's known all her life walk by her, going about the day like they normally would. But it's not like anything actually ever changes in Lima. She decides her first stop is going to be the plaza, where all of her friends hang out.

Approaching the plaza, the familiar faces stand out to her almost instantaneously—it's insane how long five days away from home feels—and she's about to run and hug them.

That was her plan, anyway. That was how she intended to come home.

Things changes, though, when she looks ahead and almost throws up on the spot.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: Are we off the hook? ;) R&R please and thank you!  
><strong>**_Love, Pam & Phoebe_**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: FINALLY UPDATED! I don't own Glee, nor any of the characters here. If I did, you'd know it.**

* * *

><p>Santana's mouth hangs open as she sees Brittany—<em>her<em> Brittany—hanging all over Sam Evans, one of her (many) ex-boyfriends. The nausea bubbles in her throat, and she cringes. Rather than instantly confront Britt, though, she gives her friends big hugs. Even _Puck_, who she hasn't been on speaking terms with for a long time. When Brittany notices her, though, the nausea fades instantly. The blonde girl bounding towards her with a smile makes her heart skip a beat, and Brittany in her arms feels like _home_. She realizes how long five days without Britt-Britt felt.

"Where _were_ you, San?" The blonde whispers into her hair, making Santana's heart clench. _How is she going to explain this?_

"It was an art fieldtrip." She says quietly, trying to shed the shame of leaving her friends—and more importantly, actually having more fun in Westerville than she had ever had in Lima. "I've got some great sketches, if you wanna see?" Brittany's eyes light up at this, and Santana smiles genuinely, excited to show her best friend her art. _Nick and Jeff, really_. She shakes them out of her head quickly.

"Hey!" Puck calls from behind them. "We're going to hang out at _Skandals_ tonight, if you're interested in coming, Lopez." He grins at her as the devious look in the Latina's eyes immediately gave the answer.

"I'll drink you under the fucking _table_, Puckerman. Bring it!" She shouts back, and everyone laughs.

* * *

><p>Santana actually had expected to show Brittany her drawings when they got to her house. But as soon as the door to San's bedroom shuts, Brittany firmly pulls Santana to her and kisses her with strength. Santana pulls back for a moment, her eyes confused.<p>

"I missed you, San! I thought we could have some sweet lady kisses as celebration?" Britt says, her head tilted slightly to the side. In response, Santana kisses her again, her hands pressed firmly to the blonde's face. Brittany's hands slide down her sides and tug her impossibly closer, so their bodies are practically one.

"Brittany, I—" She begins, but her phone begins vibrating, and she unwillingly leaves Brittany's embrace to see _who_ is bothering her right now.

"Hello?" She sighs in annoyance, picking up the phone.

"_Santana_! Thank goodness you picked up _el teléfono_. ¿Qué estás haciendo ahora? Aquí estoy en mi casa ahora mismo, puede dejar las llaves en la mesa?" Santana pales as the familiar voice wafts through the phone.

"_¡Mamá!_ Yo no sabía que ibas a venir a casa tan temprano. Voy a poner las teclas de allí ahora. Te veré pronto. Te quiero!" Santana quickly hangs up the phone. "Britt, that was my _mom_. You've gotta go."

"But San—"

"Brittany, my mom can't know you're here. You know how she is…" Brittany's face falls. "Britt, you—you can't let her make you upset. You know what we have is special." Santana grabs one of Britt's hands and gives it a tiny squeeze. "I'll see you tonight at Puck's party, okay?"

"Okay San." The Latina watches her best friend leave before angrily grabbing the set of keys her mom needs and slamming them on the counter.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mama<em>, please may I go tonight?"

"As long as you're home by midnight. I'm going out again in a few minutes for work, so I need you to promise me you'll be here."

"Yes, _mama_, I promise."

"Okay then. You can go."

"¡Gracias mamá!"

* * *

><p>"Well, if it isn't Ninja Lopez!" Puck shouts as Santana walks into the bar. She can tell by the sound of his voice that he's a little buzzed already. "How'd you stay so quiet? I'm surprised, with your big Mexican mouth and all—"<p>

"I'm Hispanic. Fuck you!" She replies, laughing with everyone as Puck's eyebrows rise.

"I know you want to." He says, eyeing her with interest.

"You're a pig, you know that?" She sighs in frustration. "And unless you'd like me to call the cops for some underage drinking, I'd keep my mouth shut if I were you." Everyone 'ooh's at this, and Puck's face drains of color. He mumbles something about needing to use the bathroom before splitting away.

"Well," Sam says with an enthusiastic smile. "Puckerman's gone, so we can actually have _fun _now!" Santana laughs again with everyone, already feeling drunk enough on excitement. But when she notices Brittany's laugh amongst the rest, and sees her leaning against Trouty Mouth, the euphoria dies away a little. She slams her fist against the bar, and a bartender slides over to her.

"What can I get for you, babe?" He asks, a sly grin on his face.

"Well, you can give me some personal space. Also some vodka." She smiles spitefully as he turns bright red and slips away from her, embarrassed. Santana turns around to look for Brittany, but she's not in her crowd of friends.

"She went to the bathroom." Quinn, Sam's brother, pipes up, knowing exactly what she's looking for.

"Ah." Santana replies, pausing a little. "Well, you want a drink?" She offers the blonde girl a shot glass full of alcohol.

"I'd love to." The other girl replies, sitting on the barstool next to her. She turns to face the Latina, a smile spreading across her face. "To idiot guys?"

"To idiot guys," Santana laughs, clinking glasses with Quinn and throwing back the painfully strong liquid. They begin to chat a little, discussing their similar hobbies—Quinn sketches in her free time, so she can banter with Santana about the benefits of using thicker paper rather than the weak stuff everyone uses. After a few _too _many drinks, though, Quinn holds out a hand to stop Santana's words and shakes her head quickly, as if trying to knock something off of her head.

"Are you single?" She slurs. Santana, similarly drunk, begins to laugh loudly.

"Yeessss ma'am." She giggles in reply, and soon they're both hysterically laughing at each other for being so _ridiculously_ drunk. But when Quinn puts a clumsy hand on Santana's shoulder to pull her closer, she begins to panic, her drunken brain _just _piecing together the clues.

Thankfully, Puck ends up saving her ass.

"Q," He shouts as the music is turned up. "Get the fuck off of Lopez. She's obviously not into you." Santana nods in drunken agreement, and is about to say she's interested in someone else when his lips mash against hers roughly. She wants to pull away from him, tell him she's into Brittany, but his hands feel so _good _on her hot skin and she's had so much to drink and the change is so welcome that she reciprocates his kisses, hauling herself up onto him.

"You're welcome," He pants between short breaks. "Now let's get outta here." She nods enthusiastically, the alcohol taking its full course on her system and making her thoughts a jumbled mess. So they fall out through the door, their lips locked together, and somehow end up at Santana's house. They collapse onto her huge bed and he pins her there, his lips brushing over her skin at a rate that makes Santana _ache _to be touched.

"I—" She begins, her lips parting in desire as Puck buries his face into the crook of her neck. "I'm not in love with you, Puck."

"I know," He mumbles into her neck, not at all upset. "I don't _care_. I need a good fuck."

"I—" She rolls her hips against his in need, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him down closer her. "Yes," She breathes huskily, and they shed their clothes quickly.

"Fuck me," She gasps as he enters her, and he obliges more than willingly. The alcohol numbs the feelings of harsh anger and regret at their past is riddled with, replacing them with stupidity and bad choices.

* * *

><p>She wakes up and proceeds to pull the pillow over her head, the bright light making her splitting headache ten times worse. Vaguely, she remembers she slept with Puck, but when she rolls over, the bed is empty. She huffs in anger, and then regrets it as a wave of nausea swiftly wafts over her. Barely holding her stomach down, she reaches over to the table next to her bed and picks up her phone.<p>

**Santana: Y did u go?**

**Puck: U wanted me 2 stay?**

**S: not rlly. Jst wondring.**

**P: U nd I r not 2gethr**  
><strong>I dont hav 2 stay with u<strong>  
><strong>we sed this wuz just a fuck<strong>

**S: tru**  
><strong>lol nvm<strong>

She puts down the phone, waiting for a response while simultaneously rolling out of bed and pulling on the shreds of clothing she calls underwear. Her phone vibrates a few moments later, a response from her ex-boyfriend.

**P: Hey, u wanna hang 2day?**

**S: u didnt get enuff of me last nite?**

**P: Sam ditched me again.**

**S: Wat?**

**P: He keeps hangin w/b**

**S: B?**

**P: Brittany**

**S: R u sure?**

**P: Dude he keeps ditching me to hang w/her its annoyin**

**S: Do uk wat he does?**

**P: He says hes banged her harder than shes been banged in her life**

Santana freezes before texting him again.

**S: Cant hang. G2G. L8R.**

"That can't be true…can it?" She whispers.

* * *

><p>She goes out again to party for the second night in a row, but this time, it's to try and prove Puck wrong. She walks by a handful of police out in front of Skandals, and she raises an eyebrow before walking up to them.<p>

"S'cuse me? What's going on, officers?" She asks, putting on an innocent guise as she stares at whatever they're looking at. They frown at her before turning their attention to the report they're reading.

"There was a gun that recently missing. It's one of our better ones…you wouldn't know about this." One of them says, brushing her away. She vaguely remembers the gun Sebastian was holding when she first saw him in action and wonders if it's the same one. The thought slips from her mind as she sees Brittany walk through the doors.

"Mmkay, whatever!" She says obnoxiously before skipping away and over to the doors. She walks in and everyone waves at her, some of them already beginning to get drunk.

* * *

><p>Santana quietly closes the door and slips out of the bar. It's not like it matters anyway, since everyone's completely hammered and Puck is hitting on anything that moves. She snorts at her ex's mindless behavior and smoothes down her tight black dress, exiting the loud bar. She leans against the wall and sighs heavily, happy to be home. That is, until she hears a soft, guttural moan that sounds so familiar to her. Santana turns the corner and sees Sam Evans grinding and kissing some girl against the wall. The girl has her hands against the wall. She gasps his name drunkenly, and Santana suddenly recognizes the voice.<br>"Sam..." Brittany slurs, and Santana's heart clenches at the sound. She blinks back tears and watches her best friend sucking face with one of her ex boyfriends. 'Please, Brittany, push him away. You don't love him like I do...' she whispers under her breath. But the blonde doesn't push the boy away from her. In fact, she moves her hands from the wall and wraps her arms around Sam, pulling him closer to her. She doesn't look miserable. She looks...happy. Santana turns away and tries to fight her tears.  
>"You shouldn't be surprised, Santana. You did the exact same thing to her last night. Besides, it's not like you mean that much to her." Quinn says coldly, staring her friend down. Santana runs then. She runs home and slams the front door, thankful no one is home. She picks the lock of the alcohol cabinet and finds a glass bottle of brightly colored vodka, which she snatches into her hands and immediately begins to down. She can't control her tears by the middle of the night, blubbering and drinking as much as she can get in a mouthful.<br>"Fuggit," She babbles at her reflection. "Britt doesn't want youuuu you stupid slut." She then bursts into tears, sobs convulsing her body completely. The liquor slowly works its magic, though, and Santana begins to lose her mind. She picks up her phone and dials the first number that comes up in her contacts list.  
>"Heyyy Sebby." she slurs. "What're you doing? Wanna have a driiiink with me?" She holds up the bottle of vodka and extends it as if she's toasting something.<br>"I...Satan, are you drunk?"  
>"Drunk as a doornail," She giggles. "Come on overrrr I'm lonely and my world is all empty and worthless without Brittany..." At the mention of the blonde, she begins to cry again. "I'm not good enough, Sebby! I can't hold onto her forever but she's my whole world and I looove her and she doesn't love me back and I jus wanna dieeeee."<br>The other end of the phone hangs up. Santana stares in shock at the cell phone before throwing it to the ground.  
>"Everyone leaves." She tearfully whispers. "Everyone." She grabs the bottle of Absolut and downs the last chug, her vision swimming. "Everyone leaves!" She shouts again, stumbling against the couch and falling against it. She feels a sudden wrench in her stomach, and before she realizes what's happening, she begins to retch over the carpet.<br>"Fuck," she chokes, trying to hold down her stomach. In a valiant attempt to be clean, she begins a crawl towards the bathroom, but gets sick halfway there. She rolls over, crying and feeling horrible, before falling into a deep unconsciousness. She doesn't remember the smashing open of her door. She doesn't feel the arms lifting her from the ground. She doesn't hear the soft, worried voice whispering in her ear, trying to keep her with him.  
>"Satan, <em>please<em> wake up."

* * *

><p><strong>AN: I'm _so _sorry I haven't updated in so long. It's been hectic, what with me dealing with the Cory/Lea relationship outing and all. I promise you, I'll try and be more active with the updates. I feel horrible :(**

**R&R, if you can forgive me?**

**xoxo Phoebe**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry it's been so long! A few notes about this chapter: there will be a homophobic slur in this chapter (but as you'll find out, we are definitely _not_ homophobes in any way, shape, or form). Also, some clarification on the sexualities of the characters: Nick, Jeff & Derrick are gay, Seb & San are bi, and Wes & David are straight. Enjoy!**

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><p>"<em>Sebastian, what's going on?" Derrick asks as Sebastian storms in with an unconscious Santana Lopez in his arms.<em>

"_I found Santana unconscious and really drunk." His voice cracks. "She's not responding to my shaking and I don't know what to do."_

"_She's gotta sleep off the alcohol, man."_

"_But what if—"_

"_She's going to be fine, Seb. Go back to plotting, or whatever the hell you do when you're by yourself."_

_He deposits Santana's limp body on the futon she had the last time she was at HQ and leaves the room immediately._

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><p>Santana wakes up with a killer hangover and nausea for the second day in a row. Blinking at the bright lights, she rolls to her side, only to let loose a shriek that could wake up her <em>entire<em> neighborhood back home.

"You must be Santana." A boy with chestnut brown hair and big brown eyes says with a cheeky smile, tilting his head slightly. She sits up and looks at him, baffled. He laughs.

"I guess you don't know me, then. I'm Derrick." He smiles, albeit a little sadly. "Sebastian's told me quite a bit about you." Santana raises an eyebrow at the last comment.

"Oh _really_? That little dick. What's his problem—"

"Santana, do you know where you are?" Derrick interrupts.

"Of course! I'm at…" Her voice falters and her eyes widen. "Where _am_ I?"

"You're in Westerville…don't you remember him carrying you inside?" The redness that spreads across her face tells him she doesn't. "Well you're safe here. Don't worry." Derrick pats her hand gently and stands up to leave. Santana, shocked he's leaving so soon, turns to ask him to wait, but is distracted by the familiar figure leaning against the doorframe. Derrick has disappeared from the room, and she's forced to face the one person who could manage to make her bad morning worse.

"Satan, you _really _can't control yourself without me, can you?" Sebastian chuckles sarcastically, and the Latina sitting on the futon flushes with anger and embarrassment.

"Fuck off, Meerkat Face." She replies defensively, crossing her arms with an inaudible huff.

"What, don't want to admit it? You were in Lima for two days and look what happened to you." He waves his hands sarcastically, and she averts her gaze. "Listen to me, Santana. What you did? That was _incredibly_ dangerous. I saw an empty vodka bottle on the floor by your couch—did you drink that whole thing?" She doesn't answer. Her silence confirms his suspicions. "That's way too much alcohol to be in a person's system. Is that what you people from Lima do for fun?"

"Listen here, Twink, I'll have you know—" She lurches off the futon and begins to storm towards him, but a sudden wave of nausea overwhelms her, and she stumbles back. Sebastian raises an eyebrow mockingly.

"Do you need—"

"Fuck you," Santana snaps at him before leaning over the trashcan. The Warbler in the doorway cringes as he hears her retch again and again, and feels his own stomach become queasy.

"I'll just…leave you to your business." He says, turning on a heel and walking out. Santana groans as she feels another wave of sickness hit her, and Derrick reappears in the doorway.

"You alright, Santana?" He asks worriedly as she vomits into the trashcan again. She shakes her head weakly, and he approaches her quickly, sitting next to her and immediately beginning to rub her back. She leans over again and he holds her hair back, and _maybe_ she could grow to like him.

* * *

><p>That night, Santana lies on her back—still in bed—and groans as her stomach begins to flip. Derrick had needed to leave about an hour ago for "Warbler business", so she told him she'd be able to manage on her own. Santana feels sick again and leans over the side of the bed, expecting the retching to begin. Instead, her stomach growls.<p>

"I'm fucking hungry." She states to the empty room. So she slowly stands up and, when she's sure she can move properly, begins to walk out of her room and downstairs to the kitchen. She pauses two doors down, though, when she hears crying. Peering in through the slightly-open door, she notices Nick curled up on the bed. He's shaking. Santana frowns, and is about to burst into the room to help when she hears footsteps from within the room. Suddenly, Jeff is there, and he's shaking Nick gently awake.

"Nick. _Nicky_. Wake up." His voice is soft and gentle, and it makes Santana smile a little. She walks away from the door and goes back to getting food.

* * *

><p>"Nick. <em>Nicky<em>. Wake up." Jeff murmurs from beside Nick's bed, smoothing his dark hair down as he slowly wakes up. His tears subside as he focuses on Jeff. "Was it that nightmare again?"

"Isn't it always?" Nick tries to laugh bitterly, but it comes out as a strangled sob. Jeff, seeing how distressed Nick is, easily pulls the smaller boy onto his lap and wraps his arms around him. He notices Nick is shaking.

"Shhh," Jeff whispers, gently nuzzling his head in Nick's hair. Nick leans back against him. "It's only a nightmare, Nicky, he can't hurt you. Not anymore. I'm right here. _Shhhh_…"

Nick pulls away slightly and looks Jeff in the eyes. "It's been three years since I've last seen him, Jeff, and I'm still having nightmares about him. Doesn't that mean something?" Subconsciously, Jeff notices how _beautiful_ Nick is, even in this state. The thought is pushed aside when he remembers he actually has to reply to the comment.

"It means that your family is messed up." Both of them laugh a little. "Besides, if they can't accept you for who you are, they shouldn't be allowed to call themselves parents."

"Yeah…" Nick replies softly, the nightmare coming back to him.

* * *

><p>"<em>NICK!" His father screams, and Nick scrambles downstairs to where his parents are sitting at the dining room table. His mother looks like she's been crying, and his father's face is contorted in rage.<em>

"_Yeah, Dad?" He asks. His throat tightens; he's never seen his father this worked up before._

"_What is this I hear about you fooling around with someone at school?" Nick pales. "I looked on your Facebook page earlier and saw a picture…" He pulls out his phone and shows his son an image of Nick kissing another boy._

"_What? I'm not fooling around with any—" Nick begins, but his father cuts him off and begins to talk to his mother as though he's not there._

"_And I thought he'd at least be a normal kid. Someone who gets all the girls and the popularity and the joy of being at the top of the school. I guess that isn't gonna happen." He turns to his son. "How dare you choose to be with another man? What kind of person are you? Where's the son I used to have? Give me back my Nick, because I sure as hell don't know who this one is."_

"_Dad! It's not a choice! I—" Nick tries to talk again, but his father stands up and hits him clean across the face, sending Nick stumbling back. Nick holds his face in fear; his father had never raised a hand to either him or his mother before._

"_Don't you dare tell me that being a fag isn't a choice." He hisses before turning around, and Nick just tries to hold back his tears. "You have ten minutes to pack up your things and leave this house." He faces Nick again. "I don't want to see your face again. You're a disgrace to this family and the Duval name." With that, his father storms out of the room, and his mother trails behind him, her eyes wide with fear, regret and sadness._

_Nick sits at the table and cries._

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><p>"So, Jeff, are we on for this weekend? Your place? I've got the best movie picked out." Nick says, trying to shake off the bad feelings from his dreams.<p>

"I can't. I'm so sorry, Nick." He averts his eyes as Nick climbs off his lap, crossing his arms.

"W-why not?"

"My parents are coming home this weekend."

Nick scoffs at him.

"What?" Jeff asks.

"You're putting your parents—the ones who haven't paid any mind to you at all—over me? The one who's literally by your side every day? I didn't realize they were so important to you. Do you remember the last time they sent you a birthday card—or even a postcard? Oh, right, you don't, because they don't do that. Why don't you spend the weekend with someone who actually cares about you?" The shorter boy says sharply.

"Are you implying that my parents don't _care_ about me?" Jeff asks angrily, moving off the bed.

"I don't have to imply anything; it's the truth! Besides, what's the _worst_ that could happen if I come over this weekend? What could possible go wr—"

"I don't want to end up like you!" The blonde yells. Nick's eyes widen in shock and hurt, and Jeff falls silent as he realizes the enormity of his mistake. The silence between them is deafening.

"Oh. You don't want to end up like_ me_? Am I that repulsive to you—"

"No, Nick, that's not—"

"—that _messed up_ of a person that you can't endure the mere idea of being me? Are my nightmares too much for you? Am I too much work? Am I too _weak_ for you?"

"Nick, I didn't mean it like that!"

"Well it sure seemed like you did!" Nick stands up and puts on his bathrobe before whirling around and facing Jeff in his full on rage. "Sometimes I think that we could even date, but since I obviously repulse you, I must be wrong. Where do I stand with you? What do I even mean to you, Jeff? Because I honestly can't tell, I'm never able to tell! Hell, half the Warblers think we're dating, the other half thinks we're fucking, but we know we're not doing either. And apparently we never will, if people you never see or hear from are more important to you than I am. So thanks for being honest with me, Jeff, just this once, because now I at least know how you feel about me." He storms out from the bedroom, slamming the door behind him. Jeff watches him sadly, knowing he had fucked up big time.

* * *

><p>Nick runs out the front doors of the HQ and straight into an alley nearby. He's not scared of anything hurting him—he's fully trained—but he feels like he just needs to get away from Jeff, no matter the cost. He's so busy contemplating what happened that he doesn't notice Sebastian slide up next to him.<p>

"You okay, Three?" He asks, clapping a hand to his shoulder. Nick looks up at him, into the eyes, and a wave of memories comes at him.

"_Hey. You." A sharp voice cuts into Nick's thoughts, causing him to spin around in fear. He's suddenly hyperaware that he's in a dark alley in the middle of the night in Central Westerville. The thought chills him to the bone._

"_E-Excuse me?" He stammers as three boys emerge from the shadows of the narrow passage._

"_What's your name?" The boy with big brown eyes and shaggy dark hair asks quietly, moving in front of the leader—or someone who Nick expects to be the leader, since his crossed arms and heated stare seems to define him._

"_N-Nick…" He stutters, moving slowly away from them. The escape plans are running through his head at light speed, and he just can't hang on to one of them. The leader pushes the shaggy haired boy aside in frustration._

"_Hey there, Nick. I'm Sebastian. Why are you in our part of town? Are you even from here?" He snaps. The dark haired boy looks like he's going to protest, but Sebastian's glare shuts him up._

"_I—I just—I was—"_

"_Stop stammering! Give me a fucking answer!" Sebastian says harshly, stepping dangerously close to him._

"_I don't have a home!" Nick blurts out in fear. The boy with the meerkat-like features raises a perfect eyebrow and stops his approach._

"_Really? Well that works out excellently for us." Sebastian smiles deviously, and Nick is panicking, feeling like he can't breathe. "You need a place to stay? Join us." He motions to the other two boys. "We need a few more members."_

"_But you guys wouldn't l-like me."_

"_And why not?" His voice chillingly threatening._

"_I—" Nick's face pales as he finds the right words to say. "I'm…I'm gay." His voice shakes._

"_Really?" Sebastian repeats. He exchanges a glance with his two cronies before he moves towards Nick. Nick is backed up against the brick wall, arms pressed tightly against it. He expects the beating of a lifetime, and maybe even death, but the lead boy surprises him when he crashes his lips against Nick's. Their teeth clash as Sebastian's tongue winds itself into Nick's mouth. Nick is stunned, gasping into the kiss. He's even more shocked when a pair of hands wanders up under his shirt. Unknowingly, Nick lets out a little moan of pleasure and begins to kiss back, winding his arms up around Sebastian's neck. Fighting for dominance, Sebastian grabs Nick's hands and forces them against the wall, breaking the kiss only for a moment before he leans back in, sealing his mouth to the wanderer's. Sebastian begins to grind against Nick, eliciting whimpers from the boy pinned under him. The boy with shaggy hair, waiting patiently behind the pair, lets out a loud wolf whistle. The boy next to him laughs and gives him a high five. Nick, embarrassed, pulls away from Sebastian's roaming hands. Sebastian just blinks before grinning devilishly at the disheveled boy leaning back against the wall._

"_You're in."_

"Nick?" Sebastian asks, a little worried now. "Buddy, can you hear me?"

"I'm fine." Nick responds, pushing past him and running from the alley.

* * *

><p>'<em>What have I done?<em>' Jeff thinks. '_Nick—my Nick—basically confessed that he has feelings for me and wants to be with me. I feel the same way; and now he thinks that I can't stand the idea of being with him even though that's all I've wanted. Oh god._' He straightens up. '_This is Westerville—at night—and he's all alone out there, hurt and distracted, and if anything happens to him it's going to be my fault—_' Jeff grabs his jacket and flies out the door, the only thought in his mind being '_NICK_'.

* * *

><p>Jeff knows exactly where his best friend is—it's their go-to hiding place from their problems and the Warblers. He quickly heads in the direction of the bridge. So he isn't surprised when he sees Nick leaning against the rails of the bridge.<p>

"How did you know where to find me?" The brunette mumbles as Jeff sits down beside him.

"This is the place we first met. I had a feeling you'd be here."

"Yeah, that was three weeks after my dad kicked me out of my house. I was thinking about killing myself before I talked to you—god, I've been messed up from the beginning, haven't I?" Nick's voice is soft, his normally expressive eyes are distant.

"Not at all. Look, Nick, about what I said earlier—"

"Don't. You were being honest."

Jeff kneels in front of him, taking Nick's face in his hands. "No. What I said was the farthest thing from the truth. I've been incredibly selfish and I can see how much I've hurt you. I never wanted you to think that I despise you. You are the kindest person I know and I know now that I need to stop hiding what I feel for you." Nick looks at him, confused.

"What you feel for me? What do you mean?" He repeats, trying to find an answer in the blonde's eyes.

"This." Jeff says simply, and leans forward to press his lips firmly against Nick's. The kiss is cautious and sweet and everything their first kiss should be. They remain like that for a moment before Nick pulls away, his eyes dazed.

"What…just…"

"I think I'm falling in love with you, Nick," Jeff whispers, his nose rubbing gently against Nick's. "And, if you'll let me, I'd really love to be your boyfriend and be with you." He looks into the brunette's eyes with hope. "So, whaddaya say? Can we try thi—"

"Are you stupid? Of _course_." Nick chuckles before pulling Jeff back into another kiss. This time, the kiss is more passionate; tongues moving in mouths, hands roaming, soft whimpers every so often. Jeff allows his hands to slip beneath Nick's loose dress shirt and gently stroke the planes of his chest while Nick curls his arms around Jeff's neck. Meanwhile, Jeff's mouth is busy sucking on the skin at the base of the brunette's neck. Nick moans, and is about to beg for more when _David_ runs towards the pair, waving his arms around.

"Nick! Jeff! Where _were_ you guys? I've been looking everywhere for you!" He shouts. His voice fades out, though, as he notices their red faces and wrinkled clothing. The two boys quickly pull themselves together, brushing and straightening out their shirts. Neither of them have an answer for the other Warbler, though, so instead they just follow him back to HQ, both of their faces still a bright red.

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><p>The next day rolls around, and Santana is fully aware that she should go back to Lima. She just chooses to ignore it, and instead hangs around with the rest of the Warblers in the giant living room, where they're having a huge Mario Kart party in front of the TV. Wes and David are up, hollering at each other at every turn while the rest of the crew laughs at how bad <em>both<em> of them are. Santana takes note of Nick and Jeff, who are quietly watching while their hands are intertwined. She smiles a little at how adorable and innocent they are.

"I'll be right back. Just gonna get a snack," She says loudly above the noise everyone is making over David's win. She slips between a few Warblers she hasn't met yet (which confuses her, because she thought she'd met all of them) and walks through a hallway into the massive white tiled kitchen.

That's when she hears the doorbell. Since the boys are so loud in the other room, she decides to answer it herself. Padding through another corridor and into the main foyer in her jean shorts, tank top and neutral colored slippers, she opens the door.

"Who are you?" She asks shortly. There are six men towering over her, one of them standing at the top of the front steps. They're all extremely burly and have threatening expressions on their faces.

"Get outta the way, bitch. We've got a job to do." The man in front barks, taking a step towards the door.

* * *

><p>Sebastian looks up from his seat in the living room. He looks for Santana in the sea of Warblers, wanting to know how she's reacting to her first Warbler gathering. He expects to see her slender figure leaning in the doorway, but notices that she isn't there.<p>

"Have you seen Santana?" He asks curiously as the boys regroup for a second round.

"She went to get a snack, I think." Jeff replies, standing up and pulling Nick with him. "We'll go check on her."

"Good."

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><p>"Who are you calling a <em>bitch<em>? Listen, Dirtbag, if you and your friends clear out now, I won't have to go all—"

"Honey, I can make this easy, or I can make this hard. Shut the fuck up and let me do my job. I've got business to settle."

"What business? Why are you even here?" Santana asks, stalling for time.

"What business?" He repeats in a mocking tone, turning around to face the other men. They snicker as he turns back around. He leans closer and puts a hand on the door. "I don't know if you know, but there's a blonde and a brunette here that pulled a gun out on _my _father who didn't pay his loans for our bakery. It's not his fault he couldn't make ends meet, but they threatened him anyways. We're here for something we like to call _revenge_."

She vividly remembers being on the hill in Lima and watching as the two boys (that she now knows as Nick and Jeff) threatened a man outside the bakery. Even though she knows that it's true, she can't bring herself to reveal that Nick and Jeff are in the house and responsible for this.

"Sorry, they're not here, have a nice day—" She tries to slam the door closed, but forgets that the leader is holding it open.

"Don't lie to me." He says lowly before shoving her into the wooden table by the door. The glass vase falls to the floor and shatters. The men begin to enter the house.

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><p>Jeff turns towards the hallway leading into the foyer when he hears something crash to the floor.<p>

"Nick? What was that?" He asks. "Where's Santana?" A look of comprehension crosses their faces, and it dawns on them that she's probably the cause of the noise. Worried as to why she'd break something, which was probably the vase near the front door, the two boys rush through the hallway.

* * *

><p>They take in the scene before them—smashed glass on the ground, Santana on the ground, the unfamiliar men in the foyer—and rush to help.<p>

"Santana!" Nick cries. He runs up to her and crouches down, attempting to help her up. Jeff moves towards the men, distracting them from the pair on the floor.

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><p>"What's taking them so long?" Sebastian groans in frustration. "Did they get sidetracked with each other again? And where did Santana go? She's been in the kitchen for ages." The rest of the boys chuckle.<p>

"Go find out, Seb." Derrick suggests, and the rest of the group murmurs in agreement before turning their attention back to Mario Kart. Begrudgingly, he walks down the hallway to look for his three missing members. Sebastian enters the kitchen to find it empty. There's no evidence that Nick, Santana or Jeff were ever in there.

* * *

><p>"Just the man we're looking for." The leader snarls. "When we're done with you, you'll be begging for us to kill you. Where's that brunette kid that you were hanging around with?"<p>

"Right here," Nick growls before shoving Jeff out of the way and delivering a sound punch to the leader's face.

Santana lets out a shocked scream.

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><p>Sebastian turns abruptly at the sound of a shriek in the hallway. He runs into the main foyer and takes one look at the scene in front of him.<p>

"_WARBLERS!_" He yells, and almost instantly, the group of boys who were only seconds ago playing videogames run up behind him, their faces dark and menacing. Santana looks up at them with wide eyes as they begin to attack.

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><p>Santana watches in awe as the Warblers start to fight off the men. This isn't an ordinary fistfight, though—not a single punch is off target. They move with surprising fluidity and grace, and work together to take out the men. Wes kicks one man in the chest, which sends him stumbling back into the graces of Nick and Jeff, who simultaneously punch the man on opposite sides of his head. He crumples to the ground, unconscious. David and Derrick approach two men from the side, slamming their heads together. Taking advantage of their dazed state, Sebastian roundhouse kicks both men in the temple. They collapse to the ground, out cold. Santana pulls herself up and decides to join in the fistfight. She turns one of the unsuspecting men around and punches him <em>hard<em> in the face. He staggers backwards, holding his nose, and she's proud of herself—until he shoves her back again. Her head hits the wall and she slumps to the ground. As the man storms towards her, Sebastian interferes with a swift kick to the throat. His eyes roll back into his head and he falls to the floor.

"Sebastian," Santana calls weakly. Her stomach begins to churn as she tries to stand up and get him. Her legs—she can't feel her legs. Santana slumps back down onto the floor, her heart pounding loudly in her ears. "Se_bastian_!" She tries again to get his attention, in vain, and can barely hear herself speaking over the now high-pitched buzzing in her ears. Vaguely, she sees him turn to look at her. He begins to approach her, and she can't feel anything as he helps her into a sitting position.

"Santana," He asks, his voice sounding distant. "How many fingers am I holding up?" He holds out a hand but she can't tell how many fingers there are. She shakes her head. "Santana, now is not the time to mess with me, _please_ tell me how many fingers I'm h—" He's cut off as David asks him what to do with the bodies. Sebastian barely pays him any mind, muttering something about 'the usual', before turning his attention back to Santana. "Can you tell me how many fingers I'm holding up?" Santana shakes her head, and he sighs before lifting her into his arms and carrying her back to the living room. Nick and Jeff approach her with blankets and a painkiller, as well as a glass of water. The rest of the Warblers file back into the room, shooting worried glances at the Latina lying on the couch. She tries to come to terms with what she's just seen; it's not every day that you see a group of teenagers that fight with such precision and skill.

"What the _hell_ are you guys?" She asks after a long pause. Everyone looks uncomfortable, and Santana is looking at Sebastian expectantly. He crouches in front of her and begins to speak.

"Santana, we need to have a talk."

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><p><strong>AN: SOOO what did you guys think? R&R! Also, Pam and I would _love_ it if you could submit your guesses as to what the Warblers are before the "Big Reveal" next chapter! We've left hints thoughout the past five chapters...drop your guesses either in your review or in Phoebe's askbox (.com/ask)! We're also going to try and update on a weekly basis, so hopefully you guys haven't given up on us yet...**

**xoxo  
>Phoebe &amp; Pam <strong>


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n: wow. it's been a long time, hasn't it? I'm really sorry. It's been a complicated while since I've updated this. So, basically, I'm a horrible person but I want to make it up for you guys and update this fic. I know I've been terrible about this. I promise I'll do my very best to not take almost-year-long breaks this time around.**

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><p>"Sebastian." Santana's voice drops an octave as the rest of the Warblers file out. "What aren't you telling me?" She shifts herself on the couch so that her head is level with his. Sebastian stands from his crouch and lightly seats himself next to her bent knees.<p>

"I…wow, a lot, actually." He lets out a bitter chuckle, eyes cast downward for a brief moment. Santana can sense the imbalance in the room, and reaches out a hand, which lands harmlessly on his arm. He flinches almost imperceptibly at her touch, but then relaxes and takes a slow breath. "You have to promise to hear me out, San." She nods, a nervous feeling filling her gut. _What if he's a serial killer? Or a rapist? Or—oh god!_ "Promise me. I just need to hear you say it."

"I promise," She repeats, but there's an audible tremor in her voice. Sebastian takes notice of it, and looks her in the eyes.

"Thank you." He gives her a relieved smile, if only for a second, and then it fades as he starts to talk. "Obviously, you know, you've seen us in 'action'." He puts finger quotes around _action_, and she half-smiles. "The most important thing you can know, right now, is that we're good. There's nothing about us that should scare you, because I—_we_, we would never hurt you. We're almost like…police officers…well, minus the ridiculous uniforms and stupid cars with sirens. But there's a catch.

No one knows about us. No one can, and no one ever will. It's really necessary that you don't tell anyone about us, Santana. Because no one in Westerville knows that I'm part of this. I'm the king's _son_. If the people knew their prince was running around, arresting people, how do you think they'd take it? Plus, my parents don't even know I'm here. We do what my parents request. They know the Warblers exist—they just don't know I'm leading them. Because honestly, I've tried castle life, and it sucks. I can't do anything, and all my parents need me for is ridiculous dinner parties and engagements that I can't stay awake through. This life…it's not exactly something I thought I would be doing, but it keeps me happy. It keeps me from going nuts at home. And before you just—freak out, because I can see it on your face, San, and there's more to this—you need to understand. What you saw back there was something that will happen every now and again. Granted, I handled the case itself terribly, but it's going to be like that sometimes. And if you can't…I can't have you around us, Santana, because there's a chance you could get hurt somewhere along the line and I can't deal with that kind of pressure—"

"Okay, shut up for a minute and let me think this through, Twink." Santana interrupts, putting her hand to his mouth to quiet him. His mouth moves a moment longer beneath her warm, delicate fingers, but then he closes it and lets her talk it out. "So you're telling me, that you're a cop. But you're not really a cop, because no one knows what you do or who you are. And you basically handle the shit the palace asks you to take care of? Like what? No, wait, before you answer that, let me tell you something. I'm going to kick your sorry ass if you think I can't handle shit like this. Do you think that was really my first brawl? Really? I'm from Lima, you stupid twig. You've said it yourself. We're the worst part of this region. Why are you so concerned with protecting me when I can hold my own?"

"You call what happened ten minutes ago holding your own? Christ, I had no idea how different terminology over there really is."

"They caught me off guard, you dick!"

"Santana, I can't have you doing this if you're not ready! You're not _trained_ like we are. You don't know the moves or the motions and teaching you would mean you would have to join the Warblers, which you definitely can't do. I'm not going to let your stupidly inflated ego get in the way of your life!" Sebastian spits the words, anger seeping through his attempt at a calm face. "I'm trying to fucking save you, you narcissistic bitch! Why can't you just get it through your impossibly thick head that you're not cut out to do this! Fuck, Santana, I found you painting in the woods bordering Lima, and you couldn't even hide yourself then. What's changed?" He's furious, now. Furious that she won't take the _hint_, that he can't let her get any closer because it could be dangerous, it could _kill_ her and he can't have that kind of blood on his hands. He doesn't want her to go—fuck, no, of course he doesn't—but she's safer when she's away from him. That's how it is.

"I…" She's speechless.

"You can't do this. I won't let you. You can stay here and heal up from the concussion you've probably got, but after that you need to go. I can't have you here. You can't be in harm's way like this."

"I'm not five, you asshole!" Santana finds her voice again, surging from her seat. The room spins a little, but she ignores it and shoves him off of the couch. She stands, her dark hair framing her face. "I can take care of myself, and you and your stupid little friends can suck eachother's cocks until your faces are fucking blue!" Santana strides out the broken down front door, leaving a speechless Sebastian standing alone in the messy living room.

"Wow, man, you're good with words." David sighs sarcastically, and Sebastian shoots him a glare that could actually kill someone. He stalks off and disappears out the front door, walking in the opposite direction of the Lima native. Derrick slips from the pack of Warblers, too, and follows Santana's path away from the penthouse. He's silent, as always.

* * *

><p>"Santana!" He shouts, and the Latina turns her head in confusion. He jogs up beside her, and her pace falters. "Santana, listen to me, can we talk? Please." He doesn't get to actually talk to her, though, because in the next moment she's crying, unable to stop herself from the shuddering breaths that overtake her.<p>

"Derrick, I'm hanging out with a group of serial killers and I'm so _scared_ and I don't get why Sebastian would do something like that and oh, god, what's wrong with me?" She loses control of her filters at that point. "It's not even that I'm scared for my life, but I'm terrified because in a week I've gotten closer to him than I've gotten to anyone _ever_, and the fact that he—he _does_ this and he puts himself in danger is just…" She breaks off, breathing in deep for a moment before realizing that she basically just confessed her crush. She turns a deep red, wiping her eyes quickly.

"Santana, you know he only said those things so you wouldn't get hurt. He really…he cares about you. And you can't say that about just anyone when it comes to Sebastian. He's got his dick all tied in a knot about this kind of stuff, and he's terrible with words. Believe me, I've seen some pretty pathetic moments from him in my time. He really likes you. He just doesn't want you to get caught up in the life like…well, like his ex-girlfriend did. He doesn't want to see it happen to you."

"But…he told me that she broke up with him for some guy from Lima. Why would…? What happened?"

"Well, Santana, you know that we're dangerous to be around. Imagine the worst thing you could possibly think of happening, and then add the person you care about the most in the world and multiply the event by one hundred. That's what happened." The breeze carries the words away, but Santana is confused and curious, and she forgets all about her breakdown earlier. "Her name was Julianne."

* * *

><p><strong>tbc<strong>


	7. Chapter 7

"Julianne?" Santana asks, the name sounding familiar to her. She can't remember why.

"Yeah. He doesn't like to talk about her that much. She was the last person he got close to…you know, before you came along." Derrick replies. Santana blushes. "But you know, he really loved her. He was actually—you can keep a secret, right?" She nods, interested now. "—he was actually going to marry her. She was the love of his life; he told me many times. We dated for a while, but I knew he would never get over her.

See, he may have told you he broke up with her. And he's right in saying that. She cheated on him with someone from Lima, and when he found out he made her leave. But a week later, she was shot and killed. Sebastian was the first guy on the scene. He saw her body first, mangled and shot three times in the stomach. She was alive when he got there. Barely. But she was. She told him she was sorry, and that she'd never cheat on him again, and those were her last words. And he's never been able to really connect to anyone again, y'know? It's been almost two years. He still has nightmares and he still blames himself for what happened. It might not have been his fault, but he keeps putting the pressure on himself, and that's why he closed himself off in there. He doesn't want you to get hurt."

"But why does he think me being around him is going to get me killed? I'm more than capable of handling myself." Santana knows why. She just wants to know more; her heart is heavy with the thought of him losing someone so close to him.

"Julianne was shot by someone Sebastian was investigating. He got arrested later on, but Sebastian knew—and still knows now—that he shot her in cold blood because of how angry he was with the charges placed on him. Those guys that broke in, they're just as dangerous as the one who killed her, and probably even more so. He's never really loved anyone else. His parents don't know or care too much about him. He's only got us, at this point, and that hole in his heart that Julianne left isn't filled by us. He loves us like family. But romantically, he's shut his heart down. Why do you think he's slept around the group so much? He's looking for someone else. He's looking for another Julianne." Derrick mumbles something else, something Santana doesn't think she's meant to hear, and notices how upset he looks.

"You still care about him, don't you?" She realizes aloud, and he looks up, his eyes saddened.

"Is it that obvious?" He groans, slapping a hand over his face, and she laughs without humor.

"Not at all. I'm experienced in that department. Trust me, I know how you feel." The thought of Brittany pains her; last she heard, Brittany was with Sam, and she was happy. She wishes it could be her. "C'mon. You know Sebastian is always gonna care for you. You're a great person, Derrick, and I don't think he could shut you out of his life—"

"But he has!" Derrick cries, interrupting her. Santana jumps backwards, spooked by his outburst. "Santana, he's replaced me with just about everyone! I love him, and I'm not going to stop loving him, and I'm always there for him—_always_, Santana, and you know what I get? I get to hear him gush about you, and how much he likes _you_ and how he thinks you're the best thing since sliced bread. I get to listen as he talks about wanting to be with you all the time, and I can't even tell him I don't want to hear it because it would hurt his feelings if I told him I didn't care! I was the one to hold him and console him when he carried _you _in from your binge drinking scare! Do you know what you did to him? Do you know how scared he got? He thought you had overdosed, and that you were dead when he carried you back." She looks at him, stunned. "Yeah. He carried you back, and he tried to wake you up all the way back to base. He never left your room for the first few hours you were unconscious. He's _never _cared that much about me. You're my replacement, Santana." His voice gets cold. "He dated me and wasn't happy. Finding you made him happier than I've seen him in a while. And I can't…I can't hurt him. I can't make him feel any pain, because I wouldn't be able to forgive myself. I love him. I am so in love with him that it _hurts_ me. So before you talk about your pain and how you think you've had it bad, remember that I've had to watch the one person I've ever truly loved sleep with everyone at HQ, and then fall in love with you." He closes his eyes and inhales slowly. "And I'm out here because I can't let you leave here. You've done some kind of miracle and made Seb happy, and…and I can't let him push you away. So I'll train you. I'll show you how to fight, I'll teach you about the Warblers. Just…don't go. He needs you. And, at this point, so does everyone else." There's a pause. "Please, Santana."

"Alright," She concedes hesitantly. "I'll…I'll stay."

* * *

><p>"Sebastian." Wes calls softly, peeking into the head Warbler's room. "Hey, Seb. Look at me. I need to tell you something."<p>

"What is it?" Sebastian barks, head snapping up to glare at him. His face is full of raw emotion, only recently released from its locked box within him. "What the hell is so important that—"

"Santana is back." Wes blurts, and Sebastian goes silent. "She's downstairs, if you want to…you know. Talk." He slips back out before Seb starts to ask questions.

Part of Sebastian is furious at her. She walked out on him, and badmouthed him and told him she didn't want anything to do with him ever again. That part of him wants to walk down a flight of stairs and yell at her for being so stupid and insolent. The other part of him wants to grab hold of her and kiss her and keep her safe in his arms. The only thing he knows he has to do is actually see her. He'll decide what to do once he gets to her. He stands from the bed, brushing off his shirt and taking a few deep breaths before confronting her.

* * *

><p>"Sebastian is coming downstairs," Wes pants, breathing heavy from running down the stairs and to the group of Warblers sitting on the opposite side of the house. Everyone grins.<p>

"So, how much do you wanna bet he's going to kiss her?" Thad whispers, and a few of them nod.

"I'll put $10 on a cheesy speech from either end." Hunter remarks. Boos fill the room. "Hey, hey! We know how mushy Sebastian gets when he really likes someone. There's no way we're going to escape unscathed from their shenanigans."

* * *

><p>She sees him, and hitting him square in the face is the first thing she does.<p>

"You _asshole_!" She cries, and he tries to say something in response, but then she hugs him tight, and he forgets the words. Her arms constrict around him, and his own are looped around her waist just as fiercely. He doesn't understand her affection, but doesn't shy away from it either. Almost as if they sensed what was coming next, the group that had gathered at the foot of the stairs quickly splits up and leaves the room so that the only people left were Sebastian and Santana. She's still clinging to him. "I'm sorry," She murmurs. "I'm so, so sorry, Sebastian." Her hand strokes the hair at the nape of his neck, and he doesn't understand. The confusion makes his heart pound, afraid of what she's learned.

"Santana, what's going on?" He murmurs, his face buried in her hair. She pulls away, finally, and reaches up to caress his face when her phone rings.

It's Brittany. Santana snaps out of her daze and backs up from Sebastian enough to pull her phone out and answer it.

"Britt?" Santana's voice is hysteric, and Sebastian feels the bubble that he was in pop. "Brittany, what's wrong?"

"Santana," Brittany weeps into the phone, and Santana can't breathe. Her lungs are constricted. _Brittany_. "Santana, you need to come home. I miss you. I need you, San. You didn't even show up at the bar for that long yesterday; Quinn says you ran out crying and I just want to know you're okay."

"I'm coming home, Brittany, don't worry. I'm gonna be right there. Okay?" The Latina's voice is consoling and loving, and it pains him to hear her talk to someone else like that. "I'm alright. I'll see you soon, baby, don't worry." Santana hangs up her phone and turns to bolt. Sebastian grabs her arm, though, stopping her.

"Santana." She's not listening to him, just trying to get away from his grip in vain. "_Santana_."

"What?!" She yells, finally ripping her arm from his grasp. "I've got more important places to be right now." Her eyes narrow at him. He opens his mouth to say something, _anything_, but instead closes his eyes and looks down, shaking his head.

"Nevermind."

When he opens them, she's gone.

* * *

><p>The journey back to Lima was one that passed quickly. Santana ran across cobblestoned streets and in front of cars that probably would have hit her if she hadn't brought about so much attention to herself. She reached the forest between the two counties and had to stop for a moment, just to catch a breath or two. When she started running again, she remembered last time, and how Sebastian had chased after her. How he had offered her help, and how she had just left him standing there. Part of her feels bad. But the majority of her instincts are saying that she was making the right decision, and that Brittany would always come first. So she soldiered on, speed-walking through the brush and trees and tall grass that scraped at her ankles and legs. She moved through it easily, not feeling a thing, her heart and mind chanting "<em>Brittany<em>" in unison.

* * *

><p>"She's gone." Sebastian mumbles, leaning against the staircase railing for support. <em>She's gone.<em> She chose Brittany over him, and that's it. The room feels empty. He hasn't moved an inch since she walked out the door. He hates her for doing this to him again. (But he doesn't. Not really.) Derrick walks in at that moment.

"Seb? Wasn't Santana just here?" He asks, and Sebastian looks at him with eyes that he hasn't seen in a long time. He smiles a little bit and moves closer to him, impossibly close.

"I missed you," Sebastian says, avoiding the question deftly. Derrick doesn't have time to respond, because in a moment his own lips are being kissed by his ex-boyfriend's. Thoughtlessly, he kisses back.

* * *

><p>"Sanny!" Brittany cries, running towards her and embracing her in a massive hug. Santana rests her head against the blonde's, and her heart starts to heal up again. "I missed you so much."<p>

"I missed you too, B." Santana murmurs, stroking the back of her best friend (girlfriend?)'s head gently. Brittany wastes no time and kisses her fully on the lips, draping her arms over Santana's shoulders. It's long and slow, and Santana feels like she's being dragged back into the vortex of Brittany, this abyss where there is only Brittany and no one else in the world. She's fine with being sucked in.

* * *

><p>Derrick is lying next to Sebastian in his bed. Curled up against the taller boy, he feels his like his heart is going to explode out of his chest. Sebastian's arm is snug around him, and he's got a smile on his face, and honestly, Derrick can barely breathe.<p>

"Sebastian?" He murmurs, trying to sound sleepier than he is.

"Mmmm?"

"I missed you too." He closes his mouth before the words start tumbling out, before he starts to say _'I love you, and I've always loved you and there is no one in this world I can imagine myself with in ten years but you and I never want you to leave again because I love you more than life itself_' and ruin this for them. He shifts and snuggles up closer against Sebastian's bare torso, face nestled against his bare chest. The rhythm of his steadily-beating heart lulls Derrick into a state of unconsciousness. It's heavy enough that Sebastian is able to crawl out of bed without waking his best friend.

He'll apologize when he can think of a reason why Derrick's words didn't make him happy like he used to be.

* * *

><p>They don't go out for dinner or anything, the day Santana gets back. She and Brittany just snuggle together in her room, kissing and watching some horrible movie on TV. It's nice—it's a break from the hell she's been through the past few days on and off. She's leaning against her girlfriend, falling asleep slowly, when her phone goes off. She picks it up reflexively, mouthing an apology to Brittany, who's too busy watching the ending of whatever drama is running its course on TNT.<p>

"Santana, help." Sebastian whispers into the phone, his voice sharp.

"Sebastian?"

"I slept with Derrick, San, I don't know…I made a mistake, but I don't know how I'm supposed to fix it when—"

"Hold up. You slept with Derrick? And you didn't _mean_ to? God, you're such an asshole. Derrick really cares about you, Sebastian. Why would you do that to him?"

"Why would you choose your blonde cheater over me? I don't know, Santana, it was a slip-up. I fucked up."

She laughs bitterly. "You don't know how long I've waited for you to say that."

"Shut up."

"Well, I'm not going back to Westerville to fix your problems, twink. Good luck solving this on your own. I've got a girlfriend to get back to. Text me if your grave needs digging!" She hangs up and turns her phone off, setting it on her side table and crawling back into bed with Britt. They fall asleep together, Santana's arms ensnaring Brittany's waist and holding her close.

Santana is woken up several hours later by a tapping sound on her window. Annoyed, she carefully tiptoes out of bed and walks to the glass pane, only to find Sebastian beneath it, holding another small stone in his hand and giving her a grimace. Her eyes almost explode out of her head. She leaves her room quietly, taking her jacket with her. Cautiously, she opens the front door.

"Santana." Sebastian breathes in a sigh of relief. She's not blind to the obvious look he gives her up and down.

"Listen here, Sebastian. This better be fast, because Brittany is sleeping ups—"

"I know, I know. 'If you wake my girlfriend, I'll kill you'. I've heard that one before. Let me in, please. We need to really have a talk." He urges, stepping nearer to her. "Please. Ten minutes."

She hesitates for a moment or two.

"Fine. Ten minutes."

* * *

><p><strong>an: don't h8 me for just updating now please. also, if you're still reading this, thank you sososososososososo much. seriously. i have faith in people like you. xo**


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